


This One's To The Death

by ivanolix



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Class Issues, F/F, Female-Centric, Femslash, POV Female Character, Porn, Porn Battle, Porn With Plot, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this upper class world, nothing is real...that's what Kahlan tells herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This One's To The Death

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Do All the Nothing You Want](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5197) by Ivanolix. 



The chandelier tinkles and sparkles above her head, the music swirling around Kahlan as she stands in the center of the ballroom, embroidered white gown sheathing her long lean body. Her up-do would be heavy enough if it weren't also embedded with jewels, but her neck is strong. Tapping her fan against the palm of her hand, she idly scans the room. So many people avoiding her. So many people she's glad to avoid.

A flash of red and she's not alone. "Looking for your next prey?" Cara murmurs over her shoulder, cool and sharp.

Kahlan's lips tighten in a faux-smile. "I thought I'd leave that to you."

The other woman saunters around to face her, wine-colored business suit cut scandalously low in front. Her half-exposed breasts are called fake in every tabloid, but Kahlan forces her eyes away without coming up with a supposition of her own

"I don't think it's fair to call them prey when they come to me. We're quite the opposite, you and I, Ms. Amnell."

"Mmm," Kahlan makes an agreeing sound, though not a pleasant one. The Amnells have been royalty here for generations beyond count, but Cara...well, she's forged her way to the top all on her own, so high up that she doesn't need a surname. Ruthless, seductive, and probably more than a little criminal, Cara upsets all the careful politics of the city where Kahlan was born. And it's not as if Kahlan merely inherited her position; she's earned it like Cara has, just with far less cheating and no seduction whatsoever. They're both fighting at the top now, and Kahlan won't even deign to meet Cara's emerald eyes.

"As if you care." Cara's words are at her ear again, low and private. Couples dance around them, drink punch, and gossip about the latest news of trade and politics. They glitter and flutter and primp, wishing they could be what Cara and Kahlan are without trying. "You look but you don't watch, Kahlan. Those people are your pawns as well as mine, and I'm not talking about your powers."

"Dear Creator," Kahlan says with a frigid sarcasm, "you keep taunting me even though you never get results. And I thought you were supposed to be clever." Sofia Amnell survived just long enough to pass on the importance of wit to her young Confessor daughter. Kahlan's natural kindness is spared only for the deserving, it's said among her supporters.

The richest woman in the country glares wordlessly without an answer. Twitching with annoyance at her very presence, Kahlan hides emotion behind a satisfied smirk and sweeps past her. Her diamond earrings jangle to the same tune as the bright chandelier above the ballroom, and people make way for her as she exits the stage. She's had enough pomp for the evening, and a dark side-room gives her a breath of fresh air. This war with Cara always sets her blood racing.

Politics and partying carry on while Kahlan looks out a window at all the city lights. Her domain, as long as she can hold it. Sometimes, wistfully, she wonders what it would be like to be someone else. Not Confessor royalty, not upper class, not gifted with powers that make others tremble. She feels hard and made of diamond sometimes, only allowed to be soft for a few moments before someone will try to take advantage of her.

"Plotting?"

Kahlan grinds her teeth together. "Cara, you're bothering me."

"I know." The blonde moves beside her in the dark, arms loosely crossed beneath her breasts, making them even more likely to spill from her v-neck jacket. "That's the point, actually."

She can't hold back her words, as icy as her gaze that turns to rest on Cara, "Everything you are is against everything I stand for."

"What you've been raised to stand for," Cara corrects with an arrogant smirk.

"Don't make this political," Kahlan snaps. "I'm talking about truth, justice, honor—" Cara kisses her, roughly, before she manages to take another breath.

Kahlan had been trained, like all Confessors, to project an image of purity. The white was symbolic, of course, and in Kahlan's case it's just that. To be sure, she'd never had a partner who satisfied her, but that is just to protect their own souls. It doesn't mean she doesn't know desire, and a woman in her position has many expected outlets for that. Kissing her rival is not one of them. At all.

Cara's lips on hers are distractingly, searingly, wonderfully good for a few seconds, before she bites down sharply on Kahlan's lower lip and pulls back.

"You bit me." Kahlan's indignation is raw and hotter than desire, and she reaches up to touch her smudged lipstick.

"You deserved it." Cara shrugs, licking her own lips casually. "You said I had no honor."

Kahlan slaps her hard enough for the sting to echo in the empty room. Emotions are supposed to be faked by a woman of her status, most of the time. She's good at it. But right now she feels confused, as if she's managed to fake herself. Her heart is skipping beats.

The other woman laughs. "You play your part very well, Ms. Amnell. I wouldn't make an effort if you weren't a worthy opponent."

"Do you think I'm some desperate lowlife willing to sleep my way into your favor?" Kahlan demands, hands clenched at her hips. "Or do you think I'm so foolish that I don't know your strategy? You've defeated many a man and woman with your _charms_." She says the word in a tone that sounds haughty even to herself. What is she doing anyway, arguing in some back room of a party with Cara?

"Do you see paparazzi anywhere?" One hand on a hip, Cara raises an eyebrow. "Do you see anyone watching? Fuck, Kahlan, maybe I just want sex."

Kahlan just stares. "I'm not a whore."

"And I didn't offer payment." Even in the dark, Cara's eyes glitter.

"You're insane, crazy, mad," Kahlan mutters under her breath, intending to get back out to the social nightlife that is her inheritance.

Instead, Cara grabs her by her arm and spins her back close. "No, just very attracted to you. Power looks good on you, Kahlan, has anyone told you that before?"

Anger blossoms in Kahlan's chest, more with every word from the other woman's lips. There are words on the tip of her tongue for a split second, such a rebuke that would shatter even the most arrogant self-esteem, but somehow on the way out it turns into a kiss. She yanks Cara close and for the first time there's nothing fake at all in the emotions here.

Her tongue delves into the other woman's mouth, hot and claiming and frustrated, and Cara is surprisingly pliant. She neither bites nor scratches but just melts into the kiss with a throaty purr. A hand twines in Kahlan's meticulous hair and wrenches it loose, and Kahlan gasps in exasperation. Finally she draws back and sucks in a breath, chest heaving. "I hate you."

"Why?" Cara asks, a fire in her eyes.

"Does it matter?" Kahlan demands, almost pleads. "I just hate you, I don't want you, and no one is allowed to touch my hair." She finishes on a sharp tone that sounds childish right now.

Cara snorts appropriately. "You're a spoiled princess, Kahlan. Afraid to give even the tiniest inch of ground. That's what being on top of the pyramid does to people, but you didn't ask for this. You were born to it. But damn it if you won't fight for it, because it's your duty."

"Go fuck yourself," Kahlan says, fiercely trying to fix her hair.

"Want to watch?"

"Do you ever give up?"

"Not tonight." Like a cat, Cara sneaks into Kahlan's personal space again, and licks her lips. "Come on..." Her hands wrap around Kahlan's wrists, body sliding against hers.

"Creator, how many whores you must go through in a week," Kahlan gasps out, although she finds herself leaning into instead of away from the shamelessly seductive motion. "You're so—"

Cara makes a noise and kisses Kahlan's neck, and the wet heat of her tongue once again sends Kahlan's brain spinning. A couple steps forward and Kahlan's falling back to the couch, Cara's hand leaving her wrist to slip down her embroidered neckline and tease her breasts until she's moaning incoherently. Kahlan hasn't been touched in weeks, months, it feels like years. She hates Cara. She loves this. They shouldn't go together but Kahlan keeps saying yes instead of no.

Pinching one perky nipple, Cara leans in and murmurs suggestively, lips tracing a lipstick stain across Kahlan's collarbone. "You're wet right now, under these silks and pearls. I've gotten you hot, haven't I, so hot that if I flipped you on your stomach and fucked you with my hand you'd just scream for more. And I'd end up confessed but it'd almost be worth it just to know I could do that to you."

"Fuck you fuck you fuck you," Kahlan hisses, writhing under Cara's hands and lips. She's starting to flush, wondering what the hell she's doing like this. Why this woman? Why? "You think this is something only you can do to me?"

Cara just growls and takes Kahlan's breast into her mouth, hungry and a little rough.

Kahlan doesn't know how she got this undone. Arching, moaning, she's giving in to this woman she should be defeating in the social sphere. If anyone walks in right now, she'll be a laughing stock of the entire city. Forever. So will Cara, but still.

The socialite in Kahlan whimpers aloud and is almost ready to push Cara off her and pretend this never happened. But Cara's mouth is so good, so good, and Kahlan pushes up for more as the blonde teases the sensitive nipple without pause. Yet when her hand starts to push between Kahlan's legs she remembers the danger, and remembers that in this power game she has a better hand of cards than Cara.

Flipping them over swiftly, Kahlan shoves Cara back to the sofa, forcing herself to breathe normally. "No. You want sex, then I'll give you sex, but you don't get to _have_ me Cara." No one does, she tells herself. That's not the way the game works.

A flash of disappointment shines in Cara's eyes but she hides it with a smirk. "Then get to it. I've made it clear that I want you."

Muttering curses to herself and the idiotic desires she gives into, Kahlan moves down Cara's body and shoves the woman's skirt up around her waist. Every one of her teachers would be screaming or fainting right now, seeing Kahlan give into primal desires. A part of Kahlan hates herself for not being what she's supposed to be, a princess who holds this city in the palm of her hand. But the rest of her is throbbing to have Cara moan beneath her and she can't explain why.

No one's ever disagreed that Kahlan is stubborn, and so no one should be surprised at what happens now. Cara's breath hitches as Kahlan spreads her legs, baring her waxed smooth sex to the cool air. The city lights outside the window of this back room are the only witness as Kahlan drops down, and with tongue and teeth starts to lavish attention where its most wanted. Face buried deep between Cara's thighs, all she knows is the musky taste of her rival, and the heated moans that start to saturate the air. For all her smirking, Cara squirms just like any other woman, bucking her hips into Kahlan's mouth and tangling fingers in her hair to demand more.

Kahlan gives her more. Unadorned lust and a strange sense of pride are all she cares about as she devours Cara, working her over until she's moaning on every breath. Cara tugs at Kahlan's hair until it falls around her bare thighs, and tugs more and more until it hurts and Kahlan bites, and then with a scream she's arching and lost in release.

Before the woman recovers, Kahlan pulls herself from the couch and rearranges her dress. Her hair is hopeless, so she pulls out all the pins and makes it look like she merely loosened the style. A hand rises to her neckline, not only to make sure its in place again but to make sure her heart won't pound out of her chest. She's lost her iron control, and wonders if insanity is infectious.

From the couch, Cara laughs a little, maybe to herself.

"This never happened," Kahlan declares, swallowing the rampant emotions and putting on her socialite's face once again. "And you'll never take my place out there. Never. I don't care what you do."

Cara says nothing, just eyes her with a gaze that's much too warm to be comfortable.

"This doesn't mean I'm attracted to you either," Kahlan hastens to add, wondering why she has to make it clear and why it sounds like a lie. "This is about power."

"Of course. That's all there is between us."

Damn it, why does it sound like a frail excuse when coming from Cara? Kahlan needs fresh air again, and so she doesn't bother with an answer.

Sweeping from the room, not letting her mind linger on the taste of Cara in her mouth and the way her breasts looked as they heaved in pleasure, Kahlan returns to the fake glistening world of the upper class. It's so much easier to avoid people, and to be avoided. It's all a woman of her position should ever want. Nothing more. Nothing.  



End file.
